


technically speaking

by zeldris



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Humor, I, Romance, haha gross, this is so nasty why do i even bother writing i owe everyone a public apology
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:30:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6357151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeldris/pseuds/zeldris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Adrien discovers Ladybug’s secret identity, he somehow comes to the conclusion that the only way to get her to fall for him is to charm her other, half – Marinette, the baker’s daughter. Chaos ensues, as usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	technically speaking

**Author's Note:**

> pairings: marichat & the rest
> 
> sidenotes: this is an au where marinette and chat noir haven’t interacted…at all, although im sure youll get that from context. also this was supposed to be for marichat week i failed i frikity failed  
> LAST DETAIL - one of my fave headcanons is that ladybug and tikki or chat noir and plagg can still talk to one another while still being transformed, but only they can hear their kwami talking  
> here u go i love writing plagg goodbye everyone

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“Let me get this straight,” Plagg started, voice muffled and distorted through mouthfuls of cheese and plenty. “You know who Ladybug is?”

Adrien, who currently had the stance and demeanor of a five year old in desperate need of a bathroom, bounced on the heels of his feet and nodded impatiently.

“…But you can’t tell her.” Plagg concluded, Adrien’s distraught, pained look drawing the situation to a close. “Why is that, again?”

“Because,” Adrien exaggerated, stretching his hand to the back of his neck and scratching it crookedly. “I…kinda-sorta accidentally peeked on her while she was changing.”

Plagg spit out some of his precious cheese on the table. “What? Adrien! Gross, have a little respect-“

“Not like that!” Adrien hurriedly replied. “When she changed into Marinette, you dope.”

“Oh. Right.” Plagg looked away, disinterested. “I knew it was her all along.”

“Sure you did.”

“I did! Not my fault you’re blind when it comes to basic physical features…” Plagg shrugged nonchalantly and finished his block of cheese hastily.

“So?” Adrien looked at him expectantly. “Got any life-changing, mind-boggling advice from an aged kwami such as yourself?”

Plagg looked over at him out of pure boredom. “’Bout what? Your little mess of a situation?”

“What else?”

Plagg almost rolled his eyes. Snappy kid, he’d better learn to respect his elders.

“It blows.” Plagg said simply. Adrien’s eyes bugged out.

“What? That’s it?” He asked in confusion.

“Yup. It blows. B-l-o-w-s. You’re gonna have to sit in silence until she figures it out.” Plagg summarized. Adrien’s face fell dramatically.

“I can’t do that! I’m gonna screw it up! Plagg, come on, give me something better to work with!” Adrien demanded.

“You’re just gonna have to learn to zip it.” Plagg shrugged. He adored Adrien, but the kid sure could be a rock sometimes.

Adrien’s face went flat out of disappointment, his hope for sage advice dwindling by the second. Could he really sit in silence while the love of his life sat behind him in class?

Adrien blinked, a single, dangerous thought dawning upon him.

“Or…” he began slowly, standing up and holding his finger out. “Or…I could get her to tell me her secret…”

Plagg seemed barely fazed by Adrien’s epiphany, and only continued to slouch on the table, picking up the remaining crumbs of his cheese and serving as acting janitor for the kitchen table.

“How do you propose that could happen, huh? You gonna hypnotize her?” Plagg asked him jokingly.

Adrien clutched his chin with his hand and thought to himself. Marinette obviously disliked him as Adrien, for unknown reasons. She would always freeze up when he was around and talk absolute nonsense. He must’ve intimidated her, maybe with his modeling label, or something like that. Ladybug was used to Chat Noir, and probably wouldn’t offer him a second glance. But…there was always alternatives…

“I’ll charm her…” Adrien started, nodding his head to himself as each new idea hit him. “I’ll get her to trust me, and then, soon enough, she’ll have to tell me she’s Ladybug! And at that point, it will be perfectly consensual, she’ll be happy with me and I can tell her who I truly am, we’ll kiss a lot, have three kids and buy a house by the beach, and everything will be wonderful forever!”

Plagg blinked. So did Adrien.

“Wow, you…seriously overthought this, didn’t you?” He murmured once Adrien’s frenzied thoughts had assembled into a more organized plan.

“Maybe a little. Adrien conceded, folding his fist on the table and grinning. “But for her….I’ll do anything…”

Plagg flew up next to him and sat down on his right shoulder. “Yeah, yeah…that’s all noble and stuff, but what makes you think that charming Marinette is going to work any different than charming Ladybug?”

Adrien looked down at him. “That’s a fair point…but it’s all about building trust. If I have the trust and admiration of both sides of her, it’s essentially like winning her heart!”

Plagg blinked, before lazily sprawling out in the crook of Adrien’s neck, enjoying the ample space it offered.

“I’d be careful,” he advised. “Thinking about her heart as a prize to be won could end up bad for you, in the long run.”

“I know, I know. Marinette is not an object, she’s a girl, and she’s…” Adrien trailed off and glanced towards the opening that led from the kitchen to the dining room, as if many more Marinette adjectives were running through his brain, so many that his mouth wouldn’t be able to keep up. “She’s…everything.” He concluded simply.

“Wow.” Plagg remarked, Adrien smiled guiltily and looked down at him, as if he were expecting Plagg to add on something along the lines of ‘that’s so beautiful’, or ‘wow Adrien, you must really love and deserve her’.

Instead, being the kwami that he was, he burst out laughing.

“That has got to be the saddest thing I’ve ever hea-“

“Shaddup.” Adrien advised his kwami, lightly shoving him off of his shoulder and onto the kitchen table.

“Hey! That was completely uncalled for, I ought to – hey, where are you going? Get back here and pay attention to me!”

“I’m gonna go plan!” Adrien announced, already halfway up the steps.

“Plan?” Plagg spoke to himself, shaking his head. “This is going to be messy…”

.

.

.

“What do you think?” Adrien asked hopefully, chewing on the edge of his pen in anxious wait for his favorite kwami’s hesitant reply.

“I think…” Plagg began, taking in Adrien’s little art project with astonishment. “I think…this is how a lot of people get arrested.”

“What?” Adrien blared, pen falling to the floor as he gave his project a second glance.

“I mean, for god’s sake, it looks like something a serial killer would make before committing crimes against nature. I mean look at it…” Plagg explained away. Adrien glanced down at the enlarged sheet of paper, trying to grasp an objective perspective.

“It’s just a flow chart!” Adrien insisted.

“It’s a flow chart that is so utterly obsessive I don’t think there’s a single therapist that could bring you justice.” Plagg told him, as if he were sealing the nails on his coffin. “Marinette better run as fast as she can, because-“

“Oh, shut up.” Adrien lamented, smacking his head down on the flow chart, initially intended to be an organized way of planning his Get-Marinette-to-Trust-and-Possibly-Love-Him plan. To Plagg, it only appeared to be a poorly constructed representation of Adrien’s pathetic admiration for her.

“Look, buddy, these things can’t be planned out. This isn’t some modeling schedule you can write on a cute little whiteboard. Marinette is a girl, and you just need to be genuine.“

“Oh, so now you have advice for me, that makes sense-“

“Don’t sass me, you little brat-“

“Just hurry up and transform me.” Adrien deadpanned, bored of arguing and all-too-ready for a day of charming.

“This is going to go terribly,” Plagg warned him in a sing-singy voice, before doing his job and changing famous model Adrien Agreste into the infamous tricky hero Chat Noir.

“This is going to go fantasmically.”

“I don’t think that’s a word.”

“Be quiet, Plagg.”

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“There she is,” Adrien admired, from a generous distance, of course. Only across the street from her bakery, but it was good enough for Adrien, evidently.

“She’s beautiful…” Adrien breathed out.

“She’s in her pajamas.”

Adrien’s face fell at Plagg’s blatant cynicism.

“She’s adorable.” Adrien sassed him, before standing up and sizing up her bedroom balcony and overall setup of her house.

“What do you think would be more romantic, the balcony, or the window?” Adrien asked aloud.

“…Neither? Both are equally creepy.”

“Plagg could you maybe provide some encouragement for once in your life?” Adrien whined, kicking his leg up and leaning his cheek on his staff. Marinette, unbeknownst to the presence of her admirer, continued to brush out her hair in frustration.

“…How ‘bout this – let’s go home, eat some cheese, and call it a day? That way Marinette doesn’t call for a restraining order-“

“Too late. This is happening.” Adrien said, eyes wild with excitement as he catapulted off of the building and leapt nimbly on top of the bakery where Marinette’s family resided.

“Dear god.”

Adrien, or rather, Chat Noir, carefully balanced on the outer wall of her balcony, peering over to make sure that she hadn’t noticed him and wasn’t calling the police.

Nope. She was still angrily brushing out a particularly stubborn tangle in her hair.

Perfect.

Adrien pulled himself up silently, not wanting to scare her in any way, until he was seated on top of the balcony comfortably. He then pulled his staff out and laid it beside him, wanting to seem as casual and non-threatening as possible. Marinette groaned out something and threw a toothbrush at her mirror.

Adorable. He could feel himself melting a little bit until he snapped himself out of his daze and stood up off of the balcony, tip-toeing closer to the window that he could clearly view her from.

When he was certain he was in a position she’d be able to see him in, he leaned his elbow on the window sill casually, thankful she was all-too focused on her hairbrush (which was currently stuck in her hair) and too busy to notice him taking his sweet time finding a stance that would look provocative and casual at the same time.

Keep it cool, nice and cool Adrien. You’re Chat Noir – you’re a kickass, awesome super hero! And Marinette will love you! So just chill, relax, and-

The sound of a piercing scream effectively cut him out of his mental pep talk. That’s weird, the scream sounded a little bit like-

“What the hell?!” Marinette screeched, her hands cradling her temples and her back arched like a frightened cat.

Ah. It appeared that she had noticed him before he had intended.

Without thinking, he awkwardly waved at her through the window. Her pissed-off and freaked out expression didn’t change, if anything, it only grew more confused.

Adrien almost cracked a smile when he realized that the hairbrush was still stuck in her hair. Oh well.

“Uh…sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you-“

Without a moment’s hesitation, Marinette bravely marched forward, yanked the window open, grabbed the bell around Chat Noir’s collar, and practically threw him into her room.

“Whoa-hoa-hoa, there, slow down, jeez, if you wanted me so bad you could’ve just-“

“You have – three seconds,” Marinette began shrilly, yanking her hairbrush out of her hair and pointing it at him as if it were a sharp, threatening weapon rather than a pink plastic object he could easily break over his knee. “To tell me what the hell you’re doing hanging around my window!”

Chat Noir blanked. He had an excuse to be there, didn’t he? There was no way he’d be impulsive enough to just waltz up to her window and expect her to welcome him with open arms, right?

Chat Noir blinked.

Oh my god. Plagg was actually…right.

“I…was….just…passing…through…” he sputtered, barely able to articulate a single word at a time. Marinette squinted, not buying his load of crap for a single second. She was so clever…and beautiful…and angry-

“Two!” She cried, hand with the hairbrush shaking as she pointed it at his face. Maybe a laser would come out of the tip, he couldn’t know for sure.

Oh, right the countdown.

“Wait, wait, wait! Hold on, just-“ he held his hands up in surrender. “I’m just…hiding! The press, they uh…saw me, and I needed a place to crash for a bit until they disperse! Please?” He begged her.

He watched her visibly soften – the crinkled skin around her eyes smoothed out like ivory silk and she lowered her plastic hairbrush.

“Ok….but only for a little bit…” She mumbled, eyes washing down to the floor to avoid his persistent gaze.

“Thank you, dear princess.” He thanked her graciously, in general, he would’ve hoped to sweep down and kiss her hand in a prince-like manner, however, she seemed more than content huddling over in the corner of her room on top of her comfy-looking bed, as far away from him as she could get.

He frowned. This was definitely a work in progress.

“Ah…I’m sorry, how rude of me,” he began studiously, “I am Chat Noir, but you probably already knew that…”

Marinette hung her head back, like she had been expecting his response, before lazily rolling her head over to look at him with boredom written in her eyes.

“Marinette.” She introduced crisply. “And don’t get too comfortable,” she added as a warning.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He lied with ease. While Marinette fiddled with the hem of her oversized pajama shirt, Chat Noir took that time to eagerly take in the sights of Marinette’s ample bedroom.

The walls were a sweet, cotton candy pink, drizzled in posters and pictures, sketched designs and scraps of fabric. It was refreshing, and Adrien felt a smile rise to his lips.

If Marinette was Ladybug, that meant that Ladybug had a soft spot for clothing design, and other art forms.

Speaking of art…

He’d have to be blind to miss the tear outs from familiar magazines speckling her wall, pictures that mirrored the face he woke up to every morning.

Casually walking up to a poster where he sat, posing in front of a tree with a book in front of his face. His face, airbrushed and slightly unfamiliar, was poised up to the sky, as if the gods themselves had suddenly reached down and touched magazine Adrien’s imagination with the utmost knowledge and divine creativity.

“Are you a fan?” Chat Noir asked aloud, a playful tint to the colors of his tone. He had always just assumed Marinette disliked him, or at least was indifferent to him. If she was a shy fan, that could change their entire relationship.

Marinette swiftly looked up and didn’t bother hiding her scowl.

“Don’t you go snooping around!” She yelled, an unforgettably beautiful blush heating her cheeks.

He grinned, releasing the magazine picture of himself and cracking his knuckles over the top of his head leisurely.

“So, Marinette,” he enjoyed testing out her name across his tongue, and he especially enjoyed the strange, intrigued reaction on her face, “tell me about yourself…”

She blinked a few times before openly blanching. “Who, me?”

“Is there anyone else in this room?” He asked her rhetorically.

She pursed her lips and huffed, before throwing her hands into her lap and sighing like a girl in love.  
But…I don’t know if I deserve an audience with the famous and oh-so-clever Chat Noir!” She slapped her hands against her cheeks and shook her head in mock disbelief. He smiled unconsciously, her sense of dry wit entertaining him greatly.

“In that case, why don’t you tell me about yourself quick, before I pick another lucky girl to perform a home invasion on,” he teased right back, adding just enough self-deprecating humor to indicate to her that he was open to her, and not an enigma she should fear or dislike.

She looked at him strangely, as if she were having extreme difficulty deciphering him.

He could only hope that was true – he felt the exact same way about her.

“Well then,” she leaned forward, folding her legs up so that her feet were criss-crossed, her soft, cotton yellow shorts straining as she leaned her weight back and forth slowly. “I’m Marinette, I’m 16 years old, and I really like strawberries.”

He smiled and pushed his weight onto his staff, leaning precariously forward to express his interest in her. “…And? What else?”

She popped her lips. “That’s all.”

“That’s all?” He quirked his eyebrows. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well,” she swept her head to the side, shoulder length, shimmery blue-black hair falling like a curtain of sheer night sky across her cheeks. “That’s all you get to know.”

He tapped his heart and made a fake groaning sound in pain, careful to disguise the subtle steps he took forward to make his way closer to her.

“Princess, you truly aim to kill,” he commended, and she only looked at her nails as if it were just another notch on her belt.

“Why must you torment me so?” He further inquired. She twisted her lips into an odd half-smile.

“Because, unlike all those fairy tales, I don’t intend to let myself fall pray to cheap flirts who sneak into little girl’s rooms,” she stretched, with an almost catlike expression, success dripping from every curve in her face.

“Cheap?” He spoke, momentarily offended that she thought he was cheap, of all insults. “Princess, you don’t really think that of me, do you?”

She opened her mouth, about to say something snappy, but closed it a second later.

“I…” she trailed off, dropping her hand to her comforter and looking down at it solemnly. “I guess I don’t.”

Chat Noir tilted his head, an interesting development in the mystery that was Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“I’m honored,” he told her earnestly, dipping his head low to express gratitude. She rolled her eyes and kicked her legs off the side of her bed.

She draped her hand across her lips, tapping them in a thinking manner. Chat Noir resisted biting his lip, she was a picture of perfection, her legs swinging low off of her bed and her hair loose and full, just like her lips, which he recognized as his undoing.

“You’re strange,” she decided, lips parting slowly before closing once more. He could almost hear the ghost of the words she wasn’t speaking – as if she were moments away from adding something along, like “you’re nothing like the Chat Noir I remember,” but of course, Ladybug was clever, and he would receive no such tell from her.

“I much prefer strange over cheap.” He told her honestly. She smiled, one he recognized as the smile she wore whenever she’d release an akuma, the smell of success in the air as she’d restore the balance to the city of Paris.

She licked her lips and he felt the depths of his brain go a bit light-heated, the simple action dizzying to the poor love struck boy.

“Shouldn’t you be going now?” She asked him, voice unrecognizably low-toned, as if trying to convey emotions of displeasure.

“Why sweetness, wouldn’t you be sad to see me go?” He asked her, in romanticized confusion.

She threw her head back in a laugh. “Please. I can see you whenever I want on the television while you shamelessly flaunt whatever it is that makes you so heroic.”

He raised an eyebrow, unbeknownst to the girl opposite him. “Thus implying you do want to see me?”

She pulled her head back in distaste. “Well…um…”

“It’s alright, Princess. I’ll allow you to nurse your pride in peace,” he held his hands up in defense, providing her with the knowledge that he meant her no ill will. “Although if it makes you feel any better, I’ll surely miss your precocious presence.”

“Ever the flirt.” She commented dryly. He only grinned as cheekily as humanly possible.

Adrien could hear Plagg fake vomiting from disgust. Silly cat.

“I’d best be off, I’m sure those…photographers have left by now. I am forever in your debt for this boundless act of kindness,” he bowed to her and then blew her a kiss. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked away. He took that as a happy sign that maybe his flirting had somehow reached her across the planes of her wit and defensive humor. That meant success. 

Suck it Plagg.

As he turned to exit via her window, he heard the sound of fabrics rumpling behind him. His ears twitched. Marinette was moving.

“Chat Noir?” She asked, only a mere foot or two behind him. He caught the scent of Christmas vanilla, familiar from his time sitting in front of her in class. What had once been just another smell to mark the day, took his breath away.

“Yes?” He asked her, bated breath proving difficult as a curtain of concern flashed across her eyes.

“Why…why did you really come here?”

Clever girl.

He smiled, having no more excuses to offer her.

“I can’t tell you that,” he told her softly, hoping that she’d be understanding about why he had to say what he was about to say. “…then I’d let the cat out of the bag.”

Marinette blinked, before a ray of realization hit her face and he almost doubled over from the shock and utter disgust written in her angry blue eyes.

She was so expressive, so fantastically Ladybug. How could he have wasted so much time walking past her when she was, quite literally, right in front of him.

Or…behind him, but it doesn’t really make that big of a difference.

“Chat, you had better not leave this room until you tell me exactly why-“

He cut off her dangerous threat with a jaded wink and he fell backwards out o her window, praying to every deity that he looked as cool as he felt.

Marinette let out a frightened shriek and immediately threw her head out the window to make sure he hadn’t become roadkill. She let out a pleasantly angry huff when she realized he was absolutely unharmed, staff holding him steadily upwards so that he could rocket onto the roof and out of sight.

Day one – a complete, and total success. It would only be a short matter of time before he’d have Marinette’s full and complete trust and her identity would be revealed without any complications.

Nothing could go wrong.

…Probably.

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End file.
